by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 26
“Stone, we've got to go!”
Kye pulled on my hand, and I ran with him, the rain soothing but cold. It was slowing, and I knew if we didn't go now, the king's soldiers would find us.
“There's a village not far from here. A baker there safeguards rebels,” Kye revealed.
I gripped his hand as we ran.
“Wouldn't it be safer to stay in the forest?” I asked.
Kye looked back at me. It was too dark to see much of anything, and there was little moon. Lightning afforded us the occasional glimpse of our surroundings, but it was the trees that ultimately helped us.
“Not for you,” Kye said. “There's no doubt in my mind Captain Neill felt your power tonight.”
Captain Neill? So that was the name of the captain who'd ordered Aigneis burned, who'd used his powers to help control the fire that killed her.
And so we ran. We ran until I thought I could run no more. Several times I stumbled, the rain and dark too much. If anyone followed, I never heard them, and the trees didn't speak. They were eerily silent, helping us, but not murmuring as they usually did. My heart felt funny, heavy, the same way it did the first few days after losing Aigneis.
“I am sorry,” I whispered.
Kye didn't look back at me. I think he was giving me my moment with the trees.
“We will endure,” the trees assured.
Their words reminded me of the first few conversations I'd had with them following Aigneis' death and my escape. “Such a funny thing death is for mortals,” they'd said. “You cry. You mourn. You grieve. You get angry. But death is not always tragic, dear one. Sometimes death is the ultimate expression of love.
Death is not always tragic. No. No, it was tragic. And yet, in some instances, it did say something about love, about sacrifice. A leaf touched my cheek, and I leaned into it in the dark. I wasn't quite sure which one of us was seeking comfort from whom.
“We're almost there,” Kye said.
I looked up, my eyes big, as if widening them would help me see in the dark. It did nothing.
“How do you know?” I asked Kye.
My hand was still in his, the grip awkward since he walked in front.
“I would know these forests blindfolded,” Kye answered.
And then I saw it. Lights. The closer we moved toward them, the more visible they became. Houses, huts really, with lights visible through the windows. Most of them were from small fires lit for warmth. It made me realize how cold I was. The adrenaline was wearing off. With fall approaching, it was cool enough without being wet. I shivered.
Kye stopped at the edge of the forest, his eyes searching. The town we found ourselves in was small. I could just make out a blacksmith's shop, the hunched figure of a man inside working late at his forge. It was too dark to tell if the rest of the buildings were shops or houses. I didn't have much experience with towns. My father hadn't allowed me to travel.
“Where are we?” I asked Kye.
He looked down at me. “Rendoh.”
I knew the name. Rendoh was one of four villages bordering the forest. There was another village separating Rendoh from Aireesi. Drannon.
“Come,” Kye said as he slunk into the shadows behind a nearby home. A dog barked, but it quieted when it saw me. We stayed low.
I was covered in mud by the time Kye stopped for good, lifting something that looked suspiciously like a storm cellar hatch behind a modest two-level dwelling. He lowered himself into the dark pit and held up his hand. I took it, following him into the pitch black hole. I pulled the door closed behind us.
As soon as the latch on the door clicked, I was suddenly blinded by light.
“Who enters my home?” a woman demanded.
I blinked, my eyes focusing on a grey-haired portly woman holding a lantern below us. Kye and I were on steep, slick stone stairs. My soaked clothes dripped onto Kye below, and a trail of water rolled down the steps.
The woman raised the lantern, her eyes narrowed.
“Kye?”
Kye stepped down, his arms lifting so that he could grasp me by the waist. I didn't fight him as he helped lower me.
“Jule,” Kye answered. “I need help.”
“By Cameet, boy! You startled me,” Jule exclaimed, her free hand resting against her chest, her cry amusing me. The Goddess of the Hearth was not known for her fierceness or protection.
Kye had the grace to look sheepish. “I'm sorry, Jule. I was in a bind. There was no time to contact you by the usual channels.”
The woman motioned us farther into the cellar. I looked around me. The underground room was cool and full of sacks of flour. There were jars of all shapes and sizes and thick bags full of stuff I couldn't identify. I could smell bread and something sweet. It made my mouth water.
Jule's eyes skirted me as we approached her, her gaze quickly scanning the mark on my wrist.
“Who is the boy?”
I just barely remembered not to finger the short curls lying wet and flat against my ears. Kye looked back at me. After all of our careful planning, we hadn't thought to come up with a name.
“Sax,” Kye said quickly. “The scribe is called Sax.”
Jule's eyes narrowed further, but she didn't question us.
“It's a bad night to be on the run,” she said instead. “Come, I'll get ye a hot meal and dry clothes.”
Kye grinned. “Thank you, Jule. I will find a way to repay you.”
The woman harrumphed.
“It's the same as always, boy. Ye can thank me by taking down the king.”
She led us up a set of wooden stairs into a small shop full of cloth covered baked goods. A coarse wooden counter separated the kitchen from a small, mostly barren area reserved for customers. Kye had said the person who would be sheltering us was a baker. My stomach growled.
Jule glanced back at me, and I blushed.
“It's been a while since you've eaten then?” she asked us.
“Aye,” Kye answered.
I didn't speak. I wasn't ready to say anything yet, my fear of discovery strong. I focused on the shop instead. Jules seemed a tidy woman. Cookware hung above a stone hearth with a small fire still burning low within. A few wooden tables and chairs sat beyond the scarred counter, and a flour-riddled apron hung by the door. There was a large window to the side of the room, but we avoided that lest we be seen, climbing up a simple staircase to a room above.
Jule set her lantern on a table before hastily covering the only two small windows in the room with dark cloth. It was obvious she had done this often.
Kye lowered his pack, my bow and sheath of arrows, and undid the cloak's clasp at his neck as I surveyed Jule's living quarters. It was more furnished than the shop room below. There was another hearth, smaller, the wood inside glowing orange and two rocking chairs, both with padded seats of homespun cloth and beautiful embroidery. A simple bed, no more than a cot really, sat along the back of the room. A curtain separated the bed from the main living space, but it stood open as if Jule rarely used it. A small table with a wash basin sat next to the bed with a chamber pot pushed up against the wall beneath it.
“Quite the bind ye must be in if ye came here in your reds,” Jule noted, her piercing gaze running over Kye's damp uniform. Kye unfastened the surcoat and pulled it off so that only the mail shirt beneath was visible.
“I released some prisoners tonight. With the chaos, I'm thinking I won't be overly missed until the morrow.”
The lie he told was smooth. I wondered at it. Since the woman before us worked with the rebels, it didn't seem likely she'd care that Kye had turned traitor to his men when he refused to murder children. But I was going to follow his lead. Kye knew these people better than I, knew which truths to tell, which secrets to keep.
Jule gestured at a decent sized armoire. It was locally made, noticeable by the arched markings on the front, the Medesian emblem along the bottom, a wolf resting in front of two
crossed swords. It reminded me of Oran.
“There are dry things within, some of my husband's old things. They'll be too short on ye, Kye, and too big on the boy but they are dry. Ye can hang your things by the fire for the night. I've tea in the kitchen and some meat pies and honey cakes. Reckon it won't hurt to eat 'em now.” Jule nodded at us. “Now get changed and rest. If the king's men come looking, ye may be spending the night in the cellar.”
Jule moved past us then and was just stepping onto the staircase when Kye stopped her.
“Thank you, Jule.”
The woman snorted, waving a dismissive hand before disappearing into the room below. Kye rifled through the armoire, holding out a pair of trousers and a loose white tunic.
“You can change behind the curtain,” he said.
I took the clothes, my cheeks flaming.
“What about . . .” I pointed at my chest. The cloth tying down my breasts was as wet as the rest of my clothes.
Kye's brows raised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“What?” he asked.
I indicated my chest again. “The cloth. It's wet.”
I was mortified, and when Kye didn't say anything, I headed toward the small sleeping area.
“Never mind.”
Kye laughed. “Stone, wait. I'm sorry. Here, take this.”
I turned to find him holding what looked like an old turban-like headpiece.
“Women haven't worn these for years. Unwrap it. It should work.”
He walked over to me.
“Won't she miss it?” I asked upon taking it.
Kye stared down at me, his gaze searching my face. I was stiff and cold, my clothes wet, but my short hair was drying quicker than it used to when it was long. I could feel it curling madly around my ears.
“She won't miss it,” Kye murmured. “I'll replace it if she does.”
Kye was close, the stubble on his face obvious. I'd never seen Kye shave, but I knew he did because he always had a shadow by late afternoon, and he was clean shaven by morning. His longer, wet hair dripped onto the chain mail he wore.
“You did well in the forest, Stone. More than well,” Kye said.
I reveled in the praise, even as I withered at the thought of the trees and their loss.
“Sax,” I corrected. “You'll have to start calling me Sax.”
Kye grinned. “I have a hard time thinking of you as a boy.”
I squirmed under his gaze. It had grown intense, intimate. He leaned closer, but the sound of feet on the stairs made him pull away.
“Go and change,” he said brusquely. “Your lips are turning blue.”
I gazed at him a brief moment longer before ducking behind the curtain, pulling it closed just as Jule reappeared, her voice mingling with Kye's. She disappeared again, and I heard Kye pulling off his clothes. It was disconcerting thinking of him stripped down in the same room as me, and I waited.
It was the smell of food that finally made my fingers move as Jules returned. I shucked the wet clothes and made more noise than usual to mask my quick use of the chamber pot and wash basin before donning the turban cloth and clothes Kye had handed me. They were incredibly loose, and I had to hold the pants up as I pushed past the curtain into the room beyond.
Jule looked up, giving me a cursory glance before retrieving a belt.
“You're a skinny boy, ye are,” she teased.
I did what I expected any boy to do if he was told he was scrawny. I scowled.
Jule laughed. “Ah, how I miss having boys under foot.”
She pointed at a plate holding a steaming meat pie and several honey cakes. My mouth watered as I sat down, eating daintily at first until I saw Kye from the corner of my eye, his brows lifted. It was then I realized Jule was staring.
“You've got manners for a boy, ye do. Where ye come from?” she asked.
Her dialect was a little different than what I was used to while living at Forticry, but I'd noticed this at the rebel camp too. Dialects tended to reflect the town people came from. Kye's voice was formal. Sometimes, it even made mine seem inadequate.
“From Treeton,” I said, lowering my voice. It wasn't a lie. Treeton was a village within walking distance of Forticry. “Just outside the Ardus.”
I was unused to speaking so low, and my voice cracked. Kye winced.
Jule seemed amused. “You're still going through the voice change, then? Young to be on the run from the law, but it is the way of things now. ‘Tis a shame what we must be afraid of.”
I looked away, finishing my food more greedily now before laying the plate aside. It felt good to have warm, fresh food.
Kye stood, grabbing our clothes to lay them by the fire while Jule handed me a mug of warm tea. I sipped it, my eyes growing heavy. The nightmares were there, just beyond in the realm of dreams. I wanted to fight them but didn't.
There was a creaking noise as Jule reached into a drawer on the armoire to grab an old, folded comforter.
“It'll have to do for tonight, I'm afraid,” she said. “You two can sleep near the fire.”
It was the last thing I remembered.